Hidden From Light
by iwriterandomthings
Summary: House is forced it to rehab, but something bad happens taking him out of it. What will happen when a dean of medicine tries to help the diagnostician? Huddy!
1. Chapter 1

This is supposed to be what's going through House's head as he tries to survive the 2 months or rehab. Pain isn't the only one on his side. May turn in to a Huddy.

My jaw about fell to the floor when she said it…

"I'm cutting off you're Vicoden"

'What?' he thought. I am not an addict I just found the only way to control my pain that worked. And now they want me to stop. Sure why don't you just kill me now.

"And you're suspended without pay" Wow, this was the final blow. Medicine is pretty much the only thing that keeps me from concentrating on my pain all the time. Without it there is only one thing left to think about.

I couldn't think of any thing to say. This cop was really screwing up my life he took away my meds, my only friend, and now temporarily my practice. How the hell is this legal? I ran out of the office leaving the ducklings in the middle of the DDX. It might be time to uncover that bottle of scotch, I think I'm gonna need it.

Ug, Tritter's deal, rehab or jail. No not jail, it doesn't go well with devastatingly handsome diagnosticians. Then ill end up permanently loosing my medical license. Rehab is my only option or I give up my passion, this is so going to suck. I mind as well go steal a wheel chair cause I'm sure not gonna be able to stand the next few weeks.

I just poured a small shot of scotch and chugged it, then another as I sat at my piano. I was beginning to pound out the notes to something out of memory. I better enjoy this night, it's my last night of freedom. This was getting rather boring, so I glanced at the clock. 8:00 at night on a Wednesday there is gonna be nothing good on T.V. Guess I should turn in early.

Damn that sunlight is bright. My leg seared as I took a step forward, if this is what I have to look forward to just put a gun to my head now and get it over with, Cuddy took my drugs, and Tritter took my stash there is nothing left to take the edge off. Now I have to suffer because of their paranoid opinions. And I have to sit through the torture of a bunch of alcoholics and heroin addict complain about the world and how it steered them that way. If I wanted that I'd look in a mirror.

How can this place be anymore dull? Pale grey walls and a bunch of red chairs arranged in a circle. There was a blond lady sitting in her own chain in the center of the small crowd, I assume she was the one in charge. A few others were at a snack table stuffing their mouths with cookies and punch as she ordered everyone to take their seats. Finally some relief, I need to get off my leg before I collapse.

She started by asking everyone what they were addicted to, And after many responses of alcohol she finally reached me.

After a quick glance at her chart she said, "Dr. House? Same question."

"I am not an addict; I'm only here because some cop is going on a power trip." I fiddled with the empty Vicoden in my pocket.

"Dr. House. May I ask what you have in your pocket?" I gave in. The bottle was empty anyway so I just tossed it to her. She stared at it and read it out loud.

"Hydrocodone… Vicoden?" I just nodded.

"I assume its prescription."

"See that's why I don't need to be here. They are prescribed, so therefore not illegal."

"Do you have a valid reason for these opiates?" she cocked her head questioningly

"In case you didn't notice this" I said holding up my cane "I have a bad leg." I rolled my eyes at her for effect.

"Dr. House there is no need to be rude.'

I gripped at my leg as a storm of pain washed over me. God, where's my Vicoden when I need it. My breaths began to get shallower and I could feel my heart racing. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. They All began to cast glances my way. Great pitying looks.

"Dr. House are you okay?" she got up and set her charts down on her chair.

I now had my leg in a death grip trying to end the painful spasm. Every movement hurt like hell wracking pain through out my entire body. "No, God Damn it. This is why I had the Vicoden."

"Do you want me to call an ambulance?" She was worried and near panic.

"NO! They won't help me anyway." I clenched my teeth down on my lip, almost biting all the way through.

She saw my badge fall from my pocket to the floor. She read it for a moment and dialed a number into her phone. I halfway paid attention through the searing pain.

Three EMT's tried to coax me on to the gurney but my muscles clenched up too much to move. The doors crashed open to the hospital, the ride was a complete blur. My hands still wrapped tight on my thigh. I was at a loss for words, pain clouding my mind and taking it prisoner. The EMT's shouted things to who I thought was my team and Cuddy. I couldn't stand it I closed my eyes and let myself drift into unconscious. The cart wheeled faster and my mind went blank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it took so long, I've been busy. I went to my favorite singer's concert, sat in the front row, and got his autograph. I have a band concert tomorrow, and I have an overdue history assignment to finish, and a book report that is due tomorrow. I know it's short, and I will try to be quicker with chapters in the future, I usually write them in my note book but I'm too lazy to change them into type.**

Chapter 2

She was in the corner, Cuddy. She rushed to my side the second she saw my eyes flutter open. God my leg hurts still.

"House" she said shining a penlight in my eyes.

"God damn it, Cuddy. That burns." It really did sting. Lights in your eyes the second you wake up isn't fun.

"House, are you ok?" he face glowing with concern. Her eyes also looked pretty red, had she be crying?

"That depends. What are you getting at?" This made her roll her eyes, and I swear I heard her giggle under her breath.

"House, you passed out in rehab." He voice slightly cracked.

"You should be able to be discharged this afternoon. If that's quick enough for you"

"Yeah sure" I just turned away and tried to drift into oblivion. I sucks trying to sleep when you're in pain. Hoping it will fade just for a few hours so you can sleep.

Maybe I could find a way to make this go faster, harassing the nurses sounds pretty appealing. Hmm… I wonder what happens when you press this big red button that says call.

"Ah. Nurse Brenda, long time no see" she let out an audible sigh,

"What do you want House?" she rolled her eyes and did a vitals check.

"Nothing in particular" I smirked, this was gonna be fun.

"Then why did you call?" she was really getting ticked off.

"I wanted to see what the big shiny button did." And for some reason she stormed out of the room looking pretty mad.

Cuddy slipped through the door and tossed a file into my lap, a few of the papers flying astray.

"Your discharge papers, I'm sure you'll find them interesting reading." She smirked and sat in a neighboring chair. I flipped through the file for a moment before slamming it down,

"What the hell? What do you mean I have to be watched? I can take care of my self just fine." Okay now this is making me mad I don't need a nursemaid pitying me every move I make. Cuddy look for some odd reason satisfied.

"Who's the lucky one you're assigning me?" She stayed silent for a moment then quietly giggled.

"I couldn't pay anyone enough to actually go home with you. Come on get your stuff, I'll drive you home." I begrudgingly moved from my bed god, lying down for almost two days can make you pretty stiff. Jesus where's my Vicoden when I need it, Oh, that's right, I'm the addict that's in pain so they take away my pain meds. For a moment I peered through the glass walls of the conference room, whew no ducklings, I didn't need nosey Cameron probing me at the moment. I grabbed my game boy, iPod, and a few medical journals that arrived in the mail that I haven't read yet. She met me in the lobby.

"Ready?" she asked digging in her purse before pulling out her keys.

"Why can't I just take my bike?" I pleaded with her. if I'm going to have a nurse mind as well have one last moment of freedom.

"Right. You never passed out at rehab, and you're never going to do it again. House, it's too big a risk, I'll pick you up and you can get your bike tomorrow." We walked out into the parking lot, it was bitter cold. As I climbed into her car the leather seats were so cold it sent a chill through my entire body, but threw razors at my leg. I massaged it trying to break the spasm as Cuddy climbed into her side of the car.

She looked over concerned for a moment the proceeded to start the car. It was quiet the entire way back to my apartment. The car screeched to a stop and I got out staring at the steps ahead of me. I dreaded the climb to the door, I felt her warmth behind me as I struggled my way up, as if she was ready to catch me if I fell. I left the door open, in too much pain to vocalize the invite. She watched me as I slumped onto the couch, I could feel her eyes staring at me, pitying me. God I hate when she does that,


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the slow update. The weekends are the only time I have really to update. **

Chapter 3 

She sat on the opposite end of the couch from him, not doing anything, just staring. Staring at him, observing him, he had to do something to break the silence.

He glanced at the remote on the coffee table and scooped it up; TV seemed as good as anything at this moment. He would rather be working on a case, but they took that from him.

* * *

The Basic House Equations: 

Tritter + hospital EQUALS pain in the ass

No pain meds + no practice x no distraction EQUALS major pain spike

* * *

He flipped on the TV, trying to find some mind numbing show to watch. He stumbled upon Iron Chef, okay now the TV is going to make him hungry. 

"Can you cook?" he asked her. His stomach was growling and the sight of food on TV was making him hungry, hungry enough to eat his own arm.

"What do you want?" she stood up folding her arms across her cleavage.

"First, never do that again. And second, whatever you can find." She scuttled off to the kitchen, after a few minutes or cabinet rummaging she yelled back out to him.

"House, do you live on anything besides peanut butter?" she sighed and came back to the living room.

"I'm going to the store to buy us something to eat, if I'm going to help you, can't do it on an empty stomach." She gathered her purse and coat and wandered to the door stopping before touching the knob.

"House, be careful. Don't push yourself, don't kill yourself." She left leaving House pondering.

She wandered the aisles of a local grocery store throwing random things into the cart. She took a quick inventory, cereal (sugary for House, low fat for her), milk, egg, hot dogs and buns, hamburger, spaghetti noodles and sauce, and other things for the rest of the week. She checked out her items, $137.56. This better be worth it.

She was on the road for a challenge and a fight. What else can she expect from the man who's been on an uphill battle for 8 years with you?


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's another chapter to cure my boredom.**

Chapter 4 

She silently walked in the door, but he knew she was there; he was just engrossed in TV. The bags rustled lightly as she made her way across the room and set them on the table. She pulled out some cheese, butter, and bread, and a skillet and spatula fro the hanging rack.

"House, want some grilled cheese?" she yelled out of the kitchen doorway.

"Sure I guess" she buttered 6 pieces of bread, 2 sandwiches for House and one for her. She placed half on them in a pan, layering them with cheese, and then topping them off with the other slices. It only took a few minutes until they were done and she plated them and brought them to the living room along with a bottle of apple juice and glasses.

House quickly munched up his grilled cheese, enjoying them because he knew this would probably be his last meal before the morphine from the hospital wore fully off and he went into withdrawal. Why couldn't they just leave him alone to manage his own pain, the only way he knows that works?

She cleared the plates and rinsed them off in the sink, the sound of the water made House want to run to the bathroom. She sat back down next to him where he was staring ahead at the TV. She lightly grabbed his hand.

"House, why torture yourself, why not end it all now? For once give up you damn pride and so something to help yourself" House pulled his hand back from her, shocked.

"I can't. It's my life why do any of you care how I manage it?" she took a finger and turned his head to look straight into her eyes.

"Because we care. Except maybe Tritter he's just out to screw us all over, you most of all." Finally someone saw reason in this, Tritter didn't care what House did with life, he could be hit by a bus and he wouldn't loose a wink of sleep, he just needs another thermometer up his ass.

House got up and retrieved a pillow and blanked from his disaster of a closet and handed it to her.

"For if you want to stay, I'm going to crash." She set them on the back of the couch staring as he thumped his way down the hall. She snuggled in the blanket on the corner of the couch flipping through the channels. After about an hour or two she decided to go check on him. The door was slightly open the bedside lamp turned on, and him hunched over the edge of the bed breathing heavily.

"Oh god." This couldn't be good she slipped in the door and slowly stepped to his side.

"House" she startled him and he jumped slightly. "House" he looked up at her, eyes glazed over in pain. "Are you okay?" she wanted to hug him and comfort him but House was never one for physical touching, so she held back.

"No" he mumbled. "I need my bloody pills!" she wanted to give him his pills, just to ease some of his suffering. If she cracked now Tritter would end up taking House down along with them all.

"I can't, Tritter… rationing…" she stumbled over her words.

"Then kill me now because I can't take this much longer." He begged and pleaded with her.

"Please Cuddy" his words muffled and short and plea for relief, and she could do nothing but watch. It tore her up inside watching his suffering. Why couldn't it be her instead?

"The morphine must have worn off" she stated and she felt stupid for saying it.

"No I'm just sitting here in agony because it's fun." And he pause a moment to hitch in a quick breath before continuing. "Please I need my pills." She knew it was only a matter of time before he ended up passing out; she had to do something before he killed himself.

She rummaged his medicine cabinet, nothing but a bottle of aspirin. Not much but it will have to do for now. She ran to the kitchen to get a glass of water and went back to his bedside.

"House" she said, with him looking up at her again. She handed him the glass and forced open the bottle and shaking 3 pills out. He swallowed them quickly, they wouldn't do much for the pain, but maybe it would help him relax a little bit so he could at least get some sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the really slow update, I was stumped for ideas. Then I realized I had this in my notebook and decided to type it up. I probably won't update again till after Christmas. **

**Happy Holidays all!**

**Spoiler warning: Spoilers for 'Skin Deep' in a couple of the quotes. **

Chapter 5

He relaxed just barely enough to sleep for about five minutes at a time before jolting awake. She pulled up a chair watching him intently, wondering it this was his normal sleeping habit, or only because he wasn't alone. The memory of his infarction still plagues him. He was always afraid to fall asleep with other people in the room since that. Until now, he has managed to hide this well.

When he realized she was still in the room, he wanted privacy.

"Don't worry about me" he whispered to her softly as she was almost nodding off, startling her a bit. "I live a life of pain. This is nothing compared to some of the mornings when I wake up" Every now in then he would hitch in a quick breath, or pin his head back against to suppress a moan if pain.

"It's because you're in pain we worry. Narcotics are a dangerous road. You shouldn't have to live this way. If you continued the way you were going, you'd need a liver transplant by

summer time." He knew it was true; any higher dose on the Vicoden would be his liver's death wish.

"No one should have to live the way I do" he shut his eyes signaling 'end of discussion'.

"What a bitter, acerbic, misanthropic, cripple?" she joked devilishly. In her head she reviewed what he had just said. I lump in her throat building with concern.

"What do you mean 'compared to some mornings'?" He slowly opened his eyes, grimacing slightly.

"On bad days I can't even walk one step without falling over. Remember when I treated that supermodel?" He pushed himself up so his back was against the head board.

"Yeah, but what does it have to do with this?" she looked at him inquisitively.

He gulped he had never admitted this to anyone, not even Wilson.

"I… fell that morning. I though of calling off work, but without a distraction the pain would have intensified. That was the worst it has been in a long while. I couldn't get my leg over my bike or I would have driven instead of taking the bus."

She got slightly teary at the thought of him falling to the floor, writhing in pain.

"And you also never even tried to help me with the pain. You claim to want to help me, but I don't even know if I can trust you. First with Stacy and my leg, and now with my pain. It's not in my head now many times you try to tell yourself that. If you had to go through what I have you would be the same way. "

She was still mad at herself for tricking him that day. If she had really known the amount of pain he was suffering she would have giving his the morphine in a heartbeat. He came to her when he was most vulnerable, and she betrayed him. She was one of the few he could trust in, and she abused that.

"I'm still sorry for that House. I mean, I was desperate. Morphine is extreme, even for someone with as much opiate tolerance as you." She gently stroked his hand, he pulled back. He didn't want her pity, not now not ever.

"I trusted you, and you betrayed me." Short, sweet, and truthful. But that doesn't make it any less hurtful. She knew she should have trusted him.

"Leave my room" he demanded, sliding back into the bed into a more comfortable position. She heaved her self from the chair and opened her mouth for one last comment.

"House" he glanced up at her, groggy and eyes half open.

"Hmph" was muffled as he turned his back to her.

"I'm sorry" she spat out awkwardly "for everything. You're one of the nation's best doctors; I shouldn't have doubted you, or your pain." She lowered her tone of voice "I'm sorry" she wanted to run out of the room and find a quiet place to cry but she managed to compose herself. She bit her lower lip, she had something she hadn't told him yet and he needed to know.

"Thank you" he said sincerely. She felt the knot in her stomach slightly loosen, House observed her face for a moment.

"Let me guess there's a catch to this?" She was shocked at his ability to be so alert even through the fog of pain.

"You have to go back to rehab in a week, either that or jail." She spit it out straightforwardly.

"Okay" was his controlled response. Her jaw drooped, basically on the floor.

"Watch out or you'll get bugs in there." She shook herself from her shocked state.

"Just okay, no arguments? I expecting to have to run for cover." She lifted her arms and curled up to act like she was ducking.

"I may be an ass, but I know when I need help. I should warn you though it probably won't work."

"Not with that attitude it wont." she muffled incoherently to herself.

"We need to try" this time she said it in an audible tone. "Tritter will start riding us again if we don't" shuddering when she said the corrupt cop's name.

"Well he'll need a saddle then" She rolled he eyes and giggled under her breath. She raised her hand a threat that he was about an inch from getting slapped.

"He'll need a whip for you. Let's all hope he doesn't wear tight leather chaps or we might all walk out blind." She burst out in laughter.

"So true. But you could always wear those shades you have."

"I'm not sure even that would block out the mental image." He smirked.

"He'll need a leash for you, there's no hope of holding you down." She smacked his arm lightly.

"On a horse they are called reins Cuddy."

"I knew that" she said, her voice oozing with sarcasm.

"Sure…" he reached over and poker her.

"Ow" she yelped rubbing her shoulder.

He shifted in the bed making a space for her, and patted the bed. She hesitated at the uncharacteristic act. She soon nodded off House watched her and smirked at her attempt. 'Can't stay up past the insomniac' he though.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry all for the slow update, I've had a really nasty case of writers block, and I was trying to get my new iPod shuffle to work. The evil thing was driving me crazy. But anyway, here's what I could come up with for another chap. It's probably short but whatever, I'll update again later.**

Chapter 6

The alarm rung out the next morning, House caught it on the first beep. His leg pain had wakened him up hours earlier and he just sat there staring at the ceiling. Cuddy still slept next to him in the bed, her mouth gaped open slightly and she snored lightly. He gently massaged his throbbing thigh trying to gather the strength to move from his bed.

When he shifted upright in the bed he accidentally bumped her head and woke her, he never noticed. She sat there and watched him try to will himself to move. A pang of guilt enveloped he stomach and she gulped down the lump in the back of her throat. He slowly gained his rickety upright stance, stepping gingerly forward with the right leg, he fell backward and cried out with pain. She couldn't stand watching him like the she slid off the bed and moved in front of him, kneeling down, and gaining his attention.

"House" she grabbed his forearm "you okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah sure, how much did you see?" He averted his gaze to the floor.

"Enough to know you are not okay." She patted his shoulder and offered he hands to help him up.

"Oh, let's just end this pity party, and just hand me my cane so I can pluck my self from this bed." She obeyed, and suppressed a tear as she watched him move. He left her in the room and went to the living room to occupy his mind with something.

"Coffee?" she asked as she turned into the kitchen.

"No, withdrawal has already set in, probably won't stay down anyway." She quickly whipped up a cup of coffee for herself and sat in the chair next to the couch. Some how before she got back he managed to scrounge up his iPod (or ipp-odd as Coma Guy called it… ok geesh, Vegetative State Guy) and was now listening to god knows what.

She tapped him again and he was a bit startled he turned and paused the music.

"What?" she looked confused

"What are you listening to?" she asked

"Music, I thought it was pretty obvious." She smirked no one can stop the almighty Gregory House of snark.

"No I mean what song."

"Southern Star." He lifted his finger to start the music again.

"By who?" she wondered because she might put it in her own iPod if it sounded interesting.

"Billy Gilman, why?" he looked at her. "You like country music?" she nodded and he handed her one of his ear buds, and restarted the song. Her eyes widened she would really have to put that in her iPod.

"He has a good voice" she pointed out.

"He was a soprano when he was 11 believe it or not. He sung that one song One Voice, like 6 years ago." He stared the music again and this time he was listening for himself.

"That's him?" she couldn't believe it. "You got anything to read?" he still heard her over the music and pointed at the large black bookshelf, he kept his fingers crossed that she wouldn't find the little grey box on top hidden under the stack of medical journals.

She picked a book that looked promising and sat back down to read it. She saw his occasional glances to the top of the bookshelf she wondered what could possibly be holding his interest. But then she looked into his eyes, they spoke volumes, they wanted relief. Her mind mulled over what was up there; she thought it might be one of his stashes, for emergencies. She read in an article that most chronic pain suffers have one, just in case. She also decided not to bring it up with him.

The more hours that flew by, the more he plunged into with withdrawal. A few quick sprints to the bathroom later, he now sat a thick blue blanked pulled up to his chin, he shook like a mini earthquake and looked like dirt. She stroked his sopping wet hair, in a small attempt to calm him just a little. She was getting herself in big time and she knew it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this is so short, I probably won't be able to update for a couple of days. This is all I could think of seeing as it's almost 12:30 at night for me and I have family coming tomorrow. Gosh I better get to bed, well here's what popped out of my head tonight.**

**SpOiLeR WaRnInG**

**Spoilers for the season one episode "Detox" and the season 2 episode "House vs. God". **

Chapter 7

She couldn't bear to tear her eyes away from him for one second, she was afraid he plunge himself in too deep with no help to be saved. She shook the thought from her restless mind; House was _not_ going to kill himself, not if she could help it.

He looked horrible and to anyone else he might have looked like he spent a year buried in dirt. He meant the world to her, although she'd never tell him that.

She never really could tell if she actually liked him. It was more like a school-girl crush to her. She respected him, she trusted him, but had she loved him? She had known him for years, all through med school; she gladly hired him when he needed a job. She knew it was also insane, but what fun is life if you don't take risks, even if it means having to deal with Greg House. He is brilliant that's why I hired him, that's what she always told herself. But was it really more that she knew was ever there?

"Please stop staring…" His words came out broken and pained. She didn't notice until he pointed out that she was gazing at him, lost in some oblivion.

She wanted to find a place and cry, she couldn't, he needed someone strong for him right now, and Wilson had already lost hope. He clutched at his stomach as another wave of nausea hit; he was so weak he almost fell flat on his face from the retching.

"House, want something for that?" she was ready to grab her cell phone and call in the orders, maybe one of his lackeys could bring it over. Not Cameron, no. For one, she couldn't see him like this, and her caring-till-your-eyes-pop-out demeanor wouldn't be what he needed right now. He didn't respond he just squinted his eyes tightly shut.

"No" He slowly put up his hand grabbing her arm and her attention.

"I've detoxed before just fine on my own. You'd remember you forced me into it."

He silently recalled the events of that week. He was so desperate for relief he ended up smashing and breaking his hand, he cancelled that kid's surgery only to be slugged by an angry parent. He did the autopsy on the cat, his hands shook so badly and he could barley concentrate. He didn't want to relive that day, and it looked like she didn't either.

"You took the bet, I didn't force you into anything!" she screamed. She had never wanted to slap herself more then at that moment. Why couldn't she control these stupid things?

Then there was silence, a long eerie silence. Something had to be said to fill the void before they were both driven mad, and it obviously wasn't going to be him. Time to get over your fears and step up to the plate…

"House, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off like that." She poured her heart into apologizing.

"Give it up, what's said is said." He didn't need ooshy-gooshy share your feelings time right now; he wasn't that kind of person.

He looked down at his hands and only now noticed they were trembling. All he could think about was ending this once and for all. But he couldn't do that around her, heck he couldn't do that to her. That would be the cruelest thing he would have ever done. He didn't want her to have to suffer because he couldn't take it.

He never really believed in God, the afterlife, or miracles, but he could sure use one...

He once told his team when he was treating some faith-healer kid...

_"If you talk to God you're religious, if God talks to you you're psychotic"_

If there really was a god, he must really hate him right now.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long with updating this one, I've been busy pursuing other things. It seems like when ever I get an idea for a story I write it for awhile then I get writer's block, so I write another one. It's just an annoying viscous cycle, and I hate it. But hey, what can I do about it? It's the way my strange mind works.**

**I just looked at the stats for this story today, and I was blown away. I'm really sorry for not updating sooner; I never knew so many people were watching this story. Anyway I thank you for your patience. **

**This chapter is going to focus more on the Huddy-ness. I think it's the best chapter yet. I may redo the others later. Go Huddy! Because, let's face it, this ship rocks. **

Chapter 8

Cuddy paced for hours around his apartment, pretending to be occupied with something, but she couldn't help but glance up at the man every five minutes. His face was beginning to pale and he was already drenched in sweat._  
_

_"Why him?"_ was the only thought that kept slipping through her mind. She batted a tear away and looked up to the ceiling _"Please, someone, stop this torture."_

When she looked back at him once more, he had somehow managed to doze off sitting awkwardly on the couch. She didn't want to move him, didn't want to deprive him of the little sleep that he was going to get through out this. So she grabbed a book off of the piano and sat in the black armchair across from the couch, ready to be there in a moment's notice if he needed her.

House couldn't escape his life, not even in his dreams. His thoughts of finding a quick way out of here then filtered into the faces of all the people he would hurt if he was gone.

"Please stop" he mumbled dazed with sleep and plagued with his overactive mind,

Cuddy walked over to the couch to try and figure out what he was talking about.

The barrage of thoughts continued. Trailing over all the people he's pushed away over the years, the lives he's managed to save, his parents, and exactly what he didn't want to be reminded of now, Stacy. He saw himself lying in the hospital bed at the time of the infarction after being put out and Stacy signing her wish to betray him, and ultimately cripple him for life. The dream continued on like a slideshow with no end, he had to stop it, break the chain. Somehow he was rendered helpless in a battle inside his head.

"Just go away!" He screamed out loudly. Cuddy became worried; she shook him gently by his shoulders to get him to wake up.

"House!" she demanded "Wake up" she shook slightly harder this time, and his eyes flipped open and he was completely disoriented and breathing heavily. Cuddy gave a slight sigh of relief, at least he was awake.

"House, you're okay. You're at your apartment. Everything's going to be fine." She moved closer and embraced him, just trying to let him that some one was there to be strong when he wasn't, to be there when his defenses fell, some one to actually care for him. She felt his tense muscles relax slightly beneath her fingertips as he regained his bearings.

"Thanks" came the whispered and muffled reply.

"Anytime" Cuddy released him from the embrace, and once again had to fight back tears. This was not going to be and easy battle.

"Want to go to your bed? My guess is it's more comfortable than this lumpy couch." He hesitated for a moment before answering.

"I'm not sure I can make it" He dropped his gaze to the floor, immediately regretting having told her.

"I'll give you a hand. I'm sure the couch isn't the best thing for your leg." She held out he hands for him. He slowly took them, rising stiffly and painfully. Cuddy stepped in place of his cane on his right side, letting him lean his full weight into her. "One step at a time, no rush" she encouraged him as they made their lopsided path down the hall. Once into the bedroom, it took all he had just to keep from collapsing right there. Cuddy lowered him into the sheets and settled him in.

"No matter what happen, no matter how much you try to push me away, you'll always have me." She ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and gave him a small sweet kiss on his forehead. "I know how stubborn-willed you are. But even the best of us fall sometimes." With that she left, closing the door behind her but leaving it open a crack so that she could hear him if he yelled.

His mind was reeling by now, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't let his brain's freak show replay it self. He had enough memory of his ill-spent live every day, how much more did he need to be reminded? He couldn't have helped but wondered if the kiss meant something, if anything at all. Could this be anything different between them? What did she mean by "even the best of us fall"? The only thing he wished different about this was the situation. He didn't want her to see him this way, in a particularly sunken and vulnerable state. Weakness was one of the qualities he never allowed anyone to seen in him.

"Just stop!" he whispered to himself, trying to block off the floodgate of thoughts.

"Just…stop" he drew out, wiping a small tear from his tired eyes.

"Just go away." He mumbled out once more, slowly calming his mind enough to let him fall into a fitful sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for slow updates, I don't have the time to write much during the week, so if I have any ideas I spurt them out on weekends. Ill try to update more often but here's another chapter.**

Chapter 9

He woke up again about two hours later. His pain had magnified beyond belief, and lying down wasn't helping the cause any. He held onto his leg with one hand and pushed himself upright with the other. Cuddy had been kind enough to leave his cane by the bedside; he grabbed it standing with his full weight on the cane and only the toe of his foot touching to floor. He stood still for a moment gaining what shaky balance he had, before beginning to pace the room. He was trying his best to work the stiffness out of his leg so maybe the pain would ebb out a bit.

Cuddy was dozing lightly on the sofa where House had sat when she heard the repetitive soft thumping from the bedroom. She stirred for a moment, turned over and fell back to sleep. He was thankful for that he didn't need her to see him this way. He leaned heavily for a moment against the door jam of the kitchen. His mouth was really dry. He glanced once more back into the living room before turning the faucet on slightly to fill the glass without disturbing her.

Cuddy had always been a very light sleeper; she could have heard him filling the water glass a mile away. She decided to go see if there was any trouble going on. By the time she had gotten to the kitchen he was even paler than before and sweating like mad. His hands were turning white from gripping the counter to keep from vocalizing his pain. He let out a low moan as he used his free one hand to rub at the offending muscles. He was in too much pain to even know she was there. She didn't want to startle him so she approached slowly.

"House." He immediately jerked toward her, regretting it as it caused more pain and me hid grip the counter harder.

"Are you alright?" she whispered moving closer to his hunched frame.

"Do I look 'alright'?" he spluttered out through clenched teeth. She shook her head.

"Let me help you." She reached out to him touching his forearm.

"Get the fuck off of me." The words came out in a bitter wince as he pushed her off him. He couldn't bear the weight on his leg. He stumbled back and slid down the faces of the cabinets, his legs folding awkwardly underneath him. He tried as hard as he could to straighten himself out, but in his weakened state it was useless. He was forced to sit there while his leg shot pain through out his whole body, sapping what was left of his energy. Cuddy, despite what he wanted jumped in to help. She carefully repositioned his legs so they were straight in front of him; he pushed her away again and began to claw angrily at the muscle.

"Spasm?" she asked, his only response was a stiff nod

"Got any muscle relaxants lying around? They might help."

"Bathroom" he managed to say. She ran off to find them; digging through enough bottles to sink a battle ship she finally found a few diazepam. She popped one out of the bottle and handed it to him along with the long abandoned glass of water.

"House, take these. They'll make you feel better really fast" She watched as he swallowed the pills dry, refusing the water, and leaned his head back against the wooden doors. She sat do next to him ready to help him once the storm finally abated. Maybe he would be a bit easier to deal with when he was on a muscle relaxant. But there was no way she bas going to be able to lift his tall, muscular frame alone. She dialed a number into her cell phone and waited patiently as it rang over and over…


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry once again for being bad on my updates, but I haven't had any ideas for my old stories. I don't even know how well this one is going to turn out.**

"Hidden From Light"

Chapter 10

Wilson sat at his desk with his head resting in his hands; it was late, almost time to call it a night. The hospital went silent, and has been for awhile now, the lights had been dimmed to their night level and most of the patients were sleeping in their rooms except for the occasional one roaming the halls.

His mind had been a crap shoot all day, useless, and running over everything at a hundred miles an hour. He had lost nearly everything, and he was creeping ever so close to losing House. He is the one thing Wilson could never bear to loose. He said to House once himself after he resigned in the midst of the Vogler's reign.

"_I only have 2 things in my life. This job, and this stupid screwed up friendship"_

As screwed up as it was, it is an amazing friendship. House has let very few into his world, he can leave you wondering why you even talk to him at all, but occasionally you get to see the snatches of him that keep you hooked.

He was jarred out of his thoughts by his ringing cell phone, _'How long has that been there?'_ He thought and then picked it up, staring briefly at the caller ID, it was Cuddy.

"Hello" He mumbled tiredly into the phone

"Hey Wilson, it's Cuddy."

"I know I saw the caller ID" he about smacked himself, maybe House was rubbing off on him too much. "Sorry, I didn't mean it, it's late and I'm tired."

"I need your help. House ended up in spasm after a late night 'let's-see-how-macho-I-can-be' contest. I gave him something, be he's out cold. I don't think I can lift him myself, can you come over and spare a hand?"

"Sure, I was about to leave anyway. I'll see you in about ten minutes" Wilson flipped the phone closed with a resounding 'click' and began to shoveling his things into the briefcase before grabbing his coat and flipping off the light. A song suddenly popped into his head _'We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz…' _ He sat in the leather seat of his car, it was freezing cold, and he took a moment to adjust before driving

off.

He just used the spare key to enter instead of knocking. Cuddy was sitting by his side on the kitchen floor stroking his brown hair and muttering soft reassurances to him the Wilson entered the door way.

"What happened?" he asked

"He got out of bed when I was asleep and went to get a glass of water. I guess it was more than he could handle because he went down quick. He fell on top of the leg and couldn't get it out from under him, so I had to step in. He went into spasm after that." Cuddy pulled herself up to Wilson's level. "Now how are we gonna get him up and into bed?"

"Turn him around, you grab him under the armpits and I'll get his legs so they don't drag." After getting a good grip on him the makeshift parade made their way down the hall. They managed to get him settled in bed with a pillow propped under his knee so he didn't wake up stiff and in agony. Cuddy and Wilson retreated to the living room, leaving the bedroom door cracked so they could hear him if need be. Wilson plopped into the corner of the couch, sinking into the plush leather while Cuddy took the armchair off to the side.

"You know he agreed to go back to rehab?" Wilson's eyes grew wide "What you didn't think it was something he would do?"

Wilson shook his head "No, it's just though I'd never live to hear the words 'House' and 'agree' in the same sentence." Cuddy smiled.

"He actually didn't put up too much of a fight either." She took a deep breath and pushed a lock of her curly hair behind her ear "I guess we have all been denying how bad his pain has been getting."

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked. Did this mean that House actually opened up to some one? _'Oh joy, this ought to be good. Now I have something to blackmail him over' _he thought.

"Remember that super model he treated?" Wilson nodded "He told me he fell that morning"

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck "It wouldn't surprise me the way he was moving that morning. The worst thing about it is, he won't tell anyone he's hurting. Not even me."

"Well actually, he did tell me. He came to me practically begging for morphine. I agreed with you, I thought it was psychological, I gave him saline instead…" she began to trail off nearly in tears.

"I would have probably did the same thing, so don't feel bad." He walked over and embraced her gently. "We all doubted him, and yet we let it go on like this. Just goes to show you who the people who are screwed up actually are."

"He is an incredibly brilliant man. Why was it so hard to trust him on what only he knows his own pain?"

"If anyone had the answer to that question, he wouldn't need us."


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone, man it's been a long time since I updated this story. Well, no better time than the present. I guess, here it goes. I don't know I guess, I hope this is a halfway decent chapter. It would be longer but I'm going to see some movies.**

"Hidden From Light"

Chapter 11

"Are you hungry?" Wilson asked pulling the menu to a late night Chinese food place off of the fridge.

"Hmm?" she asked, a bit to absorbed in the television program. They were watching some random thing off of House's TiVo.

"Want Chinese?" He held up the menu

"Sure."

"I'll order extra incase House wakes up and bugs us for food."

"'Kay, but I doubt he'll be in the mood for food in his state. Get me some chicken and broccoli will you?"

Wilson picked up the phone and dialed the familiar numbers, he and House often ordered from them. When he was done with the order he took his place back on the couch next to Cuddy. Neither of them heard House come up behind them.

"Look's like you guys are having fun." Cuddy and Wilson both turned around in shock, "I should have joined the party earlier."

"You could have if you hadn't been stupid and fallen on your ass earlier." House limped his way around the couch and nudged the two over with his cane. By the time he sat down he was gasping in pain, his leg was killing him.

"You okay?"

"Just peachy." He propped his leg up on the coffee table, the elevated position seemed help considerably. "Where is my damn Vicodin?"

"You can't have any." The doorbell and Wilson got up to pay the delivery boy.

"You hungry?" Wilson asked House as he sat down with the two paper bags. House gave a look of disgust and scooted further toward the arm rest of the couch. They guessed right, food probably wasn't the most appealing thing on his mind. Cuddy thought he looked horrible, he rested his head in his hands and his breathing was horribly ragged. Every time she looked into his eyes, she could see his pain.

Most of the time the only way to read House was through his eyes. He would put up a strong front and try to hide his pain from every one, his eyes gave it away every time. This is why he never liked eye contact, he would always avert his gaze somewhere besides people, the ceiling, the floor, anything to avoid unwanted entrance to his secret world.

House stiffly pulled him self to his feet and silently went into the kitchen, getting a glass of water. When he returned he set the glass on the coffee table and lowered himself slowly into the armchair. Cuddy and Wilson exchanged worried glances as he clutched onto his thigh with his right hand. They saw the color flush from his face even further, and rushed to his side when the leg began to jump and spasm violently. House screamed out loudly, they knew he couldn't help it. Wilson held House's shoulders back as Cuddy held his leg down to keep him from hurting himself. When the horrible spasm finally abated, his body went limp. The spasm had taken everything out of him and he had fallen asleep.

Wilson closed his eyes and took a deep breath in order to calm himself. "Oh god." He paused as he sat back down resting his forehead in the heel of his palms. "That was the worst I've seen him spasm in years, he hasn't had one that bad since after the infarct." He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back with his head resting on the top of the couch looking up. "I can't take doing this to him anymore. He never was a drug addict; we all made it seem that way just to make us feel a little safer. The truth is he's really in pain, and it takes the worst of it to make us see."

Cuddy sat next to him and placed a hand on his back and rubbed it softly. "Everything will eventually turn out right."

"But, I can't wait for eventually. Why did I get him into this mess?"

"Shush. It wasn't your fault. House was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. He finally pissed off the wrong person. And that person just happened to be someone who could make his life a living hell."

"I just wanted to help him, but I never wished for this."

"Just hang in there. House is strong, he will make it. Now, will you?"

Wilson shook his head in a flustered fury. "I can't see myself doing this to him anymore. I'd rather it be me than him."

"You have to think, would House do the same for you?"

"I doubt it; he would let me wallow in my stupidity."

"Now either your going to wallow in your guilt, or your going to help him through this, you're his best friend. He needs you, no matter how little he admits it."


End file.
